


Take The Ride

by Romany



Category: DCU (Comics), Smallville
Genre: Adultery, Angst and Humor, Clark/Lois implied, Continuity What Continuity, M/M, Multi, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-03
Updated: 2008-04-10
Packaged: 2018-02-09 11:17:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1980900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romany/pseuds/Romany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misconceptions can lead to truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Man, listen to that,” Bart said, standing by the door and shaking his head, laughing. “The ‘rents are at it _again_. They are so married, it’s not even funny.”

“Huh?” Kon said, looking up from a mess of CD’s he had spread out on the floor.

“Dude, how many times is Clark over?” He looked over at Tim, who sat cross-legged on the bed. “Come on, Tim, help me out here.”

“He’s not here that much,” Tim said, shrugging, leaning back on his hands.

“Whatever,” Bart said, still leaning against the door. “Helping them keep it on the down-low, am I right?”

“Right about _what_?” Kon insisted.

But Bart just turned away from the door, plopped down on the floor, smiled. “Clark’s so the mom in that thing they got going, muscle boy.”

“Superman does not take it up the ass!” CD cases flew all around the room.

Bart held up one that zoomed by his ear, fiddled with it. “Ka-ching! Somebody just bought a clue.” He rolled onto an elbow. “Anyway, are you saying that _Batman_ does?”

“No! There is no ass-taking! Nada! Zilch!”

“Okay, maybe they just blow each other.” Bart said, apparently not having moved, but the CD’s were all back in a nice little pile.

“Thank you,” Tim said. “I don’t think he would have gotten to it. You’ve got him pretty wound up.”

Kon just glared. “Yeah, what’re you yanking my chain for, huh? What’s up with that? Why does everything have to be gay with you?”

“Why do you have a problem with it?” Bart said.

“Problem? There’s no problem! You’re just lucky that Bruce doesn’t come up here and kick your scrawny ass for talking shit.”

“What? For talking shit about your mom? Yeah, he probably would.”

CD cases flew all around the room again. “Clark is not a _girl_!” He leapt forward onto nothing. “Sit still! You obviously want me to beat the crap out of you!”

“Knock it off,” Tim said, command-voice. “Now.”

“I hate it when you do that.” Kon mumbled, sprawled face-down on the floor.

“Sorry, man, he’s just too easy, you know?” Bart leaned against the bed, arms folded, but the CD’s were back in a nice little pile.

“Besides,” Tim said, running his hand through his hair, “Clark’s married.”

“Exactly!” Kon managed to raise his head, glare over at Bart. But he paused. “Wait, when you say it like that, do you mean...?”

“Clark’s married,” Tim said again.

“Okay, so are you saying that Speedy Gonzales here is full of crap because these two are straight?” And when Bart made a ‘ha!’ sound, Kon said, “And they so are!” Turning back to Tim, he said, “Or that they’d be getting all rabbitty with each other if that weren’t the case?

“Clark’s married,” Tim said a third time.

Kon rolled to his back, blinked at the ceiling. Finally, he put his hands over his eyes and let out a muffled scream. “My brain! Now every time the two of them go at it, I’m going to be thinking ‘sexual repression!’. Just...just fuck you two oh so very much.”

“They don’t always fight,” Tim said. “They get along most of the time.”

“Yeah, cause Bruce is such an open-hearted guy with a shit-load of friends he hangs with. There’s Clark, and well, just Clark.” Kon groaned again. “Tender man-love images! Oh God no! Stop!”

“Sorry I started it, dude, seriously,” Bart said, lying down next to him. “You know what would be cool, Tim, if you like had those glow-in-the-dark stars pasted on your ceiling. We could make our own constellations.”

“I had those when I was six.”

“Yeah, well I’m six then. Still would be cool.”

“I could get some, if you want.”

“That’d be nice. We could be all Masters of the Universe, creating our own star systems...He’d probably think we’re up here getting stoned though if we did that. You put up the ceiling art and then the 'Just Say No' pamphlets show up in your lunch box and your underwear drawer looks like it’s had the Russian Secret Police go through it.”

“I think Dick had that problem more than me,” Tim said, flopping down on the bed.

“No way! Seriously? He’s a pot-head?”

“No, he just hung out with Roy.”

“What’s the story behind that anyway? That’s like the Titan mystery of all time.”

“I guess...” Kon said, hands still over his eyes, “If Bruce was going to fag out over someone, it’d be Clark.”

Bart just looked at him. “Are we still on this?”

“Apparently,” Tim said.

“Dude, I get my good looks from somewhere!”

“Someone thinks entirely too much of himself,” Bart said, grinning. “And what’s with the Cult of Clark? You trash-talk him half the time.”

“It’s the image,” Tim said. “Sometimes it’s hard to see a real person in there. How you’re supposed to live up to that.”

“Huh,” Bart flipped onto his stomach. “I think I get that. You and me, we’re like fourth gen. Kinda sucks.”

“Kon has less wiggle-room. There’s only the one.”

“What about Power Girl and Supergirl? Don’t they count?”

“Can I just have my freak-out in peace? Fuck!”

“Yes, me and Tim should just leave you alone in his room. What the fuck?”

“I mean, if they are, then why’d it have to be _Luthor_?”

“Okay, Tim, translate. You speak Kon better than anyone.”

“Everyone wants to be conceived in love,” Tim said softly. “To exist because two people love each other.”

“Oh,” Bart said. “Sorry, man, sucks to be you.”

“S’okay.”

“I mean, who wouldn’t want to be a SuperBat ass-baby?”

Kon laughed. “You want to be buried or cremated?”

“Just trying to give your identity crisis here a little perspective. Seriously, the closest you’re ever going to have a little Wayne in you is if Drake here decides to give you some.”

“Oh my God! Why are you trying to gay up this room? Why?”

“Hey, I’m not the one with two daddies crying over not being an ass-baby.”

“I get it. You feel left out.”

“What?”

“Two sex-ass dudes downstairs putting on the Marvin Gaye, two sex-ass dudes in here,” he said, pointing to himself and Tim. “Do the math.”

“You been hitting the pipe?”

“ _Let’s get it on, let’s get it on..._ Come on, sing it with me now.”

“Get off...! Are you humping my leg? Tim!”

“Yeah, come on, Tim. Get his other leg.”

“You’re perfectly capable of getting away,” Tim said.

“Just messing with you, little guy,” Kon said. “If me and Tim ever decide to gay it up, we’ll let you be the jam in our sandwich. Deal?”

“Off!” Bart said, vibrating away, to stand sulking by the door. “Like I’d let the two of you tag-team me.” And then he laughed. “Hey, Tim, Kon here just called you sex-ass. Am I like interfering with your private time? Just say the word, and I’m...”

“It was a joke,” Tim said, looking pointedly at Kon still kneeling on the floor.

“Are you fishing?” Kon made a small cast and reel gesture. “Because I’m so fine with my own marvelous masculinity I have no problem saying you’ve got the cool, dangerous and mysterious going for you.”

Tim looked away. Kon just raised his eyebrows, looked over at Bart, who also looked away. “Ho-kay,” he said, “Who wants to go down to Amusement Mile, score some corn dogs?”

“You’re on!” Bart said, leaping for his backpack.

“Tim?”

“Half of it’s shut down for repairs.” But he reached over the side of the bed, found his shoes.

“Just means the chicks are less spread out.” Kon grabbed his jacket. “The glass is _always_ half-full, always.” He zipped up, shook his head. “Still trying to wrap my head around the whole Bruce and Clark thing.”

“Two words for you, dude. Ass. Baby. Get over it.”

“I don’t think they talk about it,” Tim said quietly, lacing up.

“Huh?”

“It’s there, but they don’t talk about it. Bruce respects Clark’s marriage. Clark respects Bruce’s privacy.”

“Jesus,” Kon said, “When you say it like that, it sounds kind of tragic and beautiful...” He coughed. “In a fucked-up gay way.”

Tim just smiled, got his jacket. “Bruce isn’t gay.”

“I thought you said the ladies were just a front?”

“Not all of them.”

Kon just stared at him, blinked. “Like how many?”

Bart shook his head, backpack slung over his shoulder. “You’re just sad, you know that? Why do I hang with you?”

“Because I’m gorgeous and you can’t live without me? Hey, details, Drake! Come on, spill!”

Tim said nothing, still smiling, and opened the door.

“Okay, that mysterious thing I said earlier? Now is not the time. Give a guy _something_.”

Bart shoved into him, pushing him out the door. “Jesus, do you even pause long enough to _listen_ to yourself?”

Kon shoved back, grinning. “Pause? I got your pause right here.”

Bart jumped on his back when they were all in the corridor, wrapped his legs around his waist, arms around his neck. “Ride! C’mon, giddy-up!”

“Oof!”

“What, too heavy for you, Super-lite?”

“Kidding me? What’re you, all of fifty pounds?”

“Yeah, fifty pounds in my _balls_.”

“Grow a pair of tits, then we’ll talk. Hey, watch the hair!” Kon said as Bart giggled and ruffled it. “Got an arm free,” he said, extending his right arm and wiggling his fingers toward Tim. “Hop on.”

But Tim just stood there, looked at the two of them.

“What?” Kon said. “Not going to drop you.” But when Tim still didn’t move, he sighed. “Seriously, I can handle both you and feather-weight here.”

Bart squeezed his neck, giggled again. “You have absolutely no clue, do you?”

“Not helping,” Kon hissed. “Just shut the fuck up.”

“Oooh, okay, maybe you do.”

“Hop on, Drake. Just take the ride.”

Tim hesitated, but then sprinted, leapt, and Kon leapt too, caught him mid-air.

“Airplane!” Bart squealed as Kon didn’t touch down.

“Yep, let’s jet on out of here.”

They flew down the stairs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark decides to play a joke. It backfires.

Clark refocused to where he was standing in the study. "Oh God," he said, "They think we..."

Bruce took off his earpiece, slid it back inside his pocket. "Weren't you listening, Clark? They think we _aren't_. Apparently, I sit here and pine after you."

Clark smiled. "I think they said something about mutual pining. Beautiful and tragic. Oh Bruce, my star-crossed love, if only we'd realized sooner..."

Eying him coolly, Bruce just said, "Very funny, Clark. The young always think everything comes down to sex. They don't understand mutual respect, friendship accrued over time—What? Why are you still laughing?"

And Clark was laughing, softly so that the kids wouldn't hear. He leaned in slightly, the two of them still close as if they had been conspiratorially listening at the door rather than using super-hearing and technology to listen in. "Wouldn't...wouldn't it be funny if...if they _caught_ us?"

But Bruce didn't say anything. A shadow passed over his face, the afternoon sun behind him, as he stood stock still, motionless. "That wouldn't be funny at all," he finally said.

"Oh come on, Bruce. Can't you just see the looks on their faces?" Clark said, hands now on Bruce's shoulders, still laughing.

Removing himself from Clark, he said, "Fine. But they won't fall for it." He pointed to the sofa. "Go over there and lie down."

Clark leaped that impossible distance, floated down. Placing his hands behind his head, he toed off his shoes, got comfortable. "I love it when you talk dirty."

Bruce only spared him a quick sidelong glance as he walked over to the stereo system. "I believe this is supposed to be our song," he said as he pushed play and "Let's Get It On" wafted through the room. 

"You seriously have this?" Clark put a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. His other hand unbuttoned his shirt as he lay back. "Take me, Bruce. Take me!"

Unlacing his own shoes and unbuttoning, Bruce said, voice low and listening for the hall. "Could you be any less believable? Remind me never to take you undercover."

And Clark did hear noises from the upstairs hallway and then the top of the staircase. "Hurry!" he hissed. "They're coming down!"

Bruce nodded, climbed on top of Clark.

"Wha...What are you doing?" Clark whispered as he felt his belt buckle opening and his pants being roughly pulled down. Bruce was now doing the same with his own.

"Shut up! You want this to be realistic? Not even a child would believe we'd dry-hump on the couch." Bruce adjusted. "Move your legs. Open up, Clark, this was _your_ idea."

Clark just looked up, Bruce's stern and now determined expression. "We're not _really_..."

"Of course not! Just appearances."

Committed now, Clark wrapped his hands around Bruce's neck, brought his legs around his back, and nodded into Bruce's shoulder.

"Good," Bruce whispered, mouth now open but only ghosting Clark's neck. "This they might believe." Bruce moved his hips, a rhythmical motion. "Don't just lie there, Clark."

Clark nodded again, moved. Relaxed. It became funny again. He threw back his head and moaned. Bruce gripped his shoulders, breath a shudder on his neck now, and moved harder.

"Oh my God!"

Two thumps sounded from the doorway, Kon dropping both Bart and Tim to the floor.

Kon's voice. "We...we were just...Oh God."

Clark could feel Bruce pull away slightly, stilling, but not quite. "Leaving," Bruce said calmly. "Be back by eight, Tim. And get the door."

Clark turned his head into the couch back, the appearance of shame. He kept his laughter silent. Three pairs of almost silent feet retreated. The door to the study quietly latching behind them.

 

"Ohmygodohmygod," Kon couldn't stop repeating as the three of them stared at each other at the top of the manor steps. "They're fucking! They're _actually_ fucking. In there. Right now."

Bart shook his head, then grinned, adjusted his backpack. "That answers that question."

"What? I know. They are. Jesus!"

"No, I mean who's taking it. What did I tell you?"

Tim said nothing, just stared down the manor drive, hands in his pockets.

"So what?" Kon said, huge grin romping across his face. "Don't you know what this means?"

"Earth logic, Super-lite."

Kon flung himself down the steps, somersaulted in mid-air, landed at the bottom and faced them. "It's true! Don't you get it? Clark was dead, right? The love of his life. And Bruce is a genius, all scientist. He snuck into Cadmus and got one over on them, on _Luthor_. You, my friends, are looking at the marvelous Kent-Wayne love-child, the living memorial to their beautiful man-love. Ta-de-fucking-da!"

"You write conspiracy theories between catching up on the soaps or something? Because that, I'm so sorry, dude, is pure _wack_."

Kon just glared, reached up and tugged on his own hair. "You see this gorgeous full head of dark hair? The _blue_ eyes? I get it from both sides, Flash In A Pan!" 

Bart snorted. "If you managed not to sleep through bio, you'd know that dark is dominant. So's bald. You're so going to be doing the comb-over by twenty-five."

" _Blue_ eyes, dumb-ass!"

Shaking his head, Bart let his pack slip from his shoulders, sat on the top step. "You're just not letting this go, are you? So they're screwing around, doesn't make it about _you_."

"Forget the Mile," Kon said, crossing his arms. "Hey, Tim! Let's go to the Cave, run some quick tests, and _prove_ that genes don't lie."

Bart threw up his hands. "Denial! We've been through this already. It sucks, but you've got to deal." His voice softened. "We need you in reality. Serious. Tell him, Tim. He'll listen to you."

Tim still stared at the drive. "The angle was wrong," he said.

Kon said "Huh?" and Bart said "What?", almost in unison.

"It's not like Bruce to leave himself open for discovery. Not like that."

"So?" Kon said. "Heat of the moment, passion. That's pure love right there, dude. Beautiful."

But Bart's eyes widened and he just started laughing. "As much as I like this new PFLAG side of yours, your balloon of happy just got popped."

"What?"

"Just check it out, use the super-ears."

"No way! That's private time in there." But Kon listened, preparing to be partially scarred for life. What he heard was Clark laughing, and not in a sex way. He narrowed back down, put his head in his hands. "They're not," he whispered, throat suddenly tight. "They fucked with us."

And Bart was on his back again, squeeze and a hug. "Hey," he said. "Hey, get pissed at me. I'm the one who brought it up. I'm the one who's wack. They must have heard."

Kon could hear Tim walk down the steps, quietly join them. "I'll get the corn dogs," he said.

"Why do you two even hang with a crazy dumb-ass like me?" Kon's head was still in his hands.

Bart gave him another squeeze. "Because we love you, man. No lie. We're friends that have been through some crazy shit and can laugh at the end of the day. Just like those two in there." He pauses. "Tim? Now would be a good time for you to say the magic words."

Kon could hear a small intake of breath, a sigh. "It's true," Tim said.

"They fucked with us," Kon said again. "Bruce, I can see, maybe. But Clark?" He let his hands fall away, a slow smile. "That...that's kind of cool."

Bart just laughed against his neck, still holding on, relief. "You can keep your crazy Cult of Clark." He let go. "Come on, let's do the Mile."

They walked down the drive. "Think we'll pull that kind of crap on our kids?" Kon said, shaking his head but still grinning. "They got us _good_."

 

Clark stopped listening--and laughing, Bruce still on top of him. He just thought it would be funny, but he hurt Conner...Kon. He prefers Kon. Maybe he should spend more time with him. He'll drop by the farm more often. So Bruce had been right, this wasn't so funny.

"Bruce? They're gone. You can get off."

Bruce, however, didn't stop moving, his eyes half-closed and their groins pressed together, concentrating. "I...I will," he said. "Just...give me five minutes. Two, if you help."

And to Clark's utter embarrassment, he was moving too. Helping, as Bruce put it. Not that the idea of Bruce and himself ever doing this was a completely foreign concept. That was the problem. It wasn't. But he'd always managed to control any...physical...reaction around him. Physical along with all the attachments. But like this? Impossible. Stupid idea. Backfiring joke, totally on him, and with a few other casualties. Stupid.

"Bruce?"

"Physical reaction," Bruce said, hands still gripping his shoulders, eyes closing all the way now. "Proximity, friction. That's all it is. We can finish. Nothing wrong...not...not sex...natural as masturbation."

Of course it wasn't sex for Bruce. As far as Clark knew, for Bruce, it was only sex with women. He hadn't looked too deep, didn't pry.

"Hey, Smallville," Lois had said one night. "If you and Bruce ever find yourselves doing the nasty, you'll only spend a few nights on the couch."

Clark's eyes had sprung fully open on that one. He rolled over and just looked at her. "Where...where did _that_ come from?" he said.

She smirked. "My ever so keen powers of observation. Investigative journalist here, remember?"

"Lois, really, that's not going to happen."

She rolled into him then, kissed him softly. "He can pretty much talk you into anything, Clark. So I'm giving you your Get Out Of Jail Free card early. You feel guilty about too much already. Don't abuse it. Just come home and get flowers on the way, okay?"

He had just smiled then. "You're crazy and I love you," he said. Bruce, in a million years, would never look at him _that_ way.

"Not sex," Bruce said again now, grinding against him, breath deepening and quicker. "Not..."

Clark hesitated. He could just agree, let this play out. And then, maybe, they could have Not Sex again. They could be Not Sex partners that have lots of Not Sex. But he only had one Get Out Of Jail Free card, and he was pretty sure even Not Sex was a marital felony, so he wanted to use it wisely. He took a deep breath—and a chance. He slowed down, took one of his hands, caressed the side of Bruce's face.

Bruce's eyes flashed open and he stilled.

"What if I want more than five minutes?" Clark said, uncertain. "What if--"

"That's not possible," Bruce said. "Clark, you can't." And Bruce's face broke a little when he said this. "Clark, you can't."

Oh. Bruce hadn't been using the Not Sex line to deny what they were doing. Okay, he had. But not to give himself an out, but to give Clark one.

Clark's face, maybe, broke a little too. He kept his hand on Bruce's cheek.

"You were never supposed to know," Bruce whispered, hoarse. "You were never supposed to want this."

"We only have this once, Bruce," Clark said. "We need more than five minutes."

And the way Bruce bowed his head, nodded slightly, then leaned down to brush his lips, Clark knew he didn't have to explain any more than that. "Upstairs," Bruce said, voice still low. "They won't be back until eight. We have until then."

Five hours. Clark scooped Bruce up, sped up the stairs. Impulsive. It didn't matter if he ran or walked. No matter how fast he ran, he wouldn't be able to buy enough time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes things really are what you think. Things to be learned. Lessons to be had.

So they get back to the manor way the fuck early because the day has just gone from one disaster to another. First the joke thing that Clark and Bruce had pulled, so not funny with the getting his hopes up that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't Luthor spawn after all. But no, the Big Gay Love turned out to be a whole lot of nothing, just two straight dudes having one on because Bart had to open his smartass mouth and fuck with him. Which okay, but Tim, you know, who knows _everything_ , had to back him up with the whole tragic love story crap so that Kon was all with the believing and so ready to join the Gay Straight Alliance and PFLAG or whatever and be all, like, _proud_ of his two hot-ass _dads_ , two _heroes_ , being all hot-ass with each other. And so what if that sounded butt-fuck crazy? It's not like his life wasn't butt-fuck crazy already.

But no, Kon's still the product of some _plot_ , no test tube of pure love for him. Sucks. But he's a big boy, he can deal, he can be cool.

So they get to the Mile, right? Get the corn dogs, ride on the just plain sad roller coaster a few times. Chicks _everywhere_. But do Tim and Bart help with the schmoozing? No, they do not. No, they hang back, looking all sullen and lame, acting like anti-chick magnets, chick _repellent_ , so that Kon has to do all the work. Which he does, thank you so much, all by himself. Scores three babes, one for each of them because he's all magnanimous like that. Because these are his buds and good times must be had.

Do those two get with the program? Fuck no. They like leave and shit and Kon has to follow. So here he is, seventeen, at least biology-wise, and still not laid. As in ever. Dude, even second-base is an intellectual concept to him. And okay, Cassie, which he's maybe sort of boyfriend-girlfriend with. But he's got to know _something_ when he makes the move and not be a complete doofus. Because what if he's uncool and lame and she just laughs at him for having absolutely no skill-set whatsoever?

This day will go down in his personal history as pure suck. Suckitudinous.

At least Tim forked over the cash for the corn dogs like he said he would. Kon used to have corporate sponsors and now he's got an _allowance_. The Kents, you know, good people and he loves them, but they act like five dollars is a big freaking deal and give him the Wilford Brimley lecture about the value of a dollar. Because they're old and come from a time when they had new-fangled things like televisions and cars. He used to live the high life in Hawaii and now he's all Little House on the Prairie. Which, according to Clark, is the only way to go. But he's not Clark, never will be, no matter how hard he tries. Always falls short.

Funny, but his whole corporate sponsor thing, which was a _great_ idea, by the way, at least in theory, should have been his first clue that he's Luthor spawn. But he doesn't have a Luthor brain or a Wayne brain, not even a Clark brain. Clark might act all homespun and humble-pie, but he writes like poetry and novels in his spare time, all intelligent and good shit that mostly goes over Kon's head. And he tried the poetry thing once, but he burned it in horror with the heat vision when he actually read it to himself after, because he has like _some_ common sense and wouldn't inflict that crap on villains let alone Cassie.

He should just go home and jerk off. Now that's a skill he's perfected.

So they're dragging their three lame asses up the stairs, not saying much, because Tim and Bart seem to have this silent agreement that Kon's the one who's ruined their guys' day out and not the other way around. Most of the lights are off in the house. They get upstairs and there's music coming from the master bedroom and the door's closed and there are like these _noises_. Sex noises. They, meaning Tim and Bart and him, just sort of stand there and blink at each other.

"I am so not falling for that a second time," he says, voice all whispery for no freaking reason. "Seriously, that's just insulting."

Bart and Tim just shake their heads and go into Tim's room. But Kon hangs back because, dude, those noises sound so _real_ and how the fuck are they doing that? You know, without actually doing _that_? So he gets his inner x-ray specs going, screw privacy because they're probably in there yucking it up again, and holy _fucking_ shit! Just...Jesus, that's _exactly_ what they're doing. _Exactly_.

He's got an excellent view since they're all side-angle on the bed, sheets every which way. But it's not like they're under them or anything because they're both on their knees. And wow, it's a whole world of weird because it's _Clark_ that's pounding into _Bruce_. It's Clark that's holding Bruce up, face pulled to the side so they can kiss while they're doing it. All sweaty and just _into_ it. So into it that they probably didn't even hear the three of them come back. So not performing at all. Just all intense and in their own little world. 

Oh. My. God.

Because Kon's not exactly backing away with the ew and shrivelly here. He's not running and screaming into Tim's room, slamming the door behind him with the Save Me, I'm So Scarred crap. No, he's just standing there, mouth open, staring at The Gay. And not in a deer in headlights or traffic accident way either.

It's hotter than shit. Hot. Like in a porn kind of way. Hotter than the internet porn he downloaded that one time, that just sort of had this mega-virus attached to it and kind of crashed the Kents' computer. Big time as in deader than dead. He ended up having to muck up the stables all by himself for a month for that one. As well as hear the 'it's different when two people love each other' talk. Repeatedly.

Oh fuck. He's so, so, _so_ screwed.

Bruce isn't just taking it, he's saying stuff, all encouraging. Who the fuck knew that Mr. Stern and Stoic, who acted like stringing five words together was breaking the word bank for the day and who would just fuck your shit up as soon as look at you, would be a talker. Not just a talker, but a babbler. Kon recognizes some of the Japanese, you know, from Hawaii, but the _other_ words... Jesus, that's Kryptonian flying out of his mouth. Serious sex shit Kryptonian. And Kon didn't even know those words existed, that they're even possible. He shouldn't even recognize them.

But his body sure the fuck does. Those words just crawl into his ear and go straight down to his _balls_. He feels like running off into the night and screwing anything that's not nailed down. Hard as a freaking _rock_.

And these words aren't meant for him. He's just a by-stander, you know. Clark's the one who's going freaking nuts, nuts at the speed of molasses, all slow and tender and responding. Saying those words back. All 'lover' and 'warrior' and 'brother'. All 'always' and 'forever'. Just downright nasty with all the body parts too. Nasty and romantic. Romantiporn.

Shit. He's just a whole _world_ of messed-up right now because that's Clark in there and Kon's getting turned-on, majorly, watching him screw Bruce up the ass and Bruce with the loving of said screwing.

They have a word for that and it starts with the letter 'I'. And he's kind of familiar with that one already because he's made tasteless, even to himself tasteless, comments in _public_ about Power Girl's breasts. And she's like his cousin one dimension removed or something. His _cousin_. And he hasn't figured out the exact genetic math with Clark yet, but whatever it is, they're a whole lot more related than _that_.

This, what he's doing right now? This is just like going into his parents', if he had parents, room while they're going at it and saying, "Can I watch?" Completely not normal sex education and flat out _wrong_.

There is such a thing as a three-bag ugly Kryptonian. He's seen a few of them in the Zone. Put a bunch of them together and they average out just like humans do. Some beautiful and some not in a million years, just breed with each other, okay? looking ones. But none of those have made it to Earth because the few that are on Earth are House of El. El is like the Hot House, hothouse of Kryptonian gorgeousness. Of which Kon got those genes. Not to brag or anything, but he's a looker and then some.

Except he's kind of made of fail in a whole lot of other ways. Like this. Freaking pervert.

But the alternative is just as bad. And scarier.

Because those rippling muscles in Clark's back? That's how ripped he'll look in a few years. And Bruce? When Tim hits his prime and buffs out, he'll look a hell of lot like that too. Just as freaking smart and scary and hot and...

Oh crappity crappity crappity _crap_. His bud. Nonononono just no.

Any second now, Tim's going to pop his head out the door, have that concerned look on his face, wondering if Kon spontaneously combusted in the hallway or something. And Kon's just going to plant one on him, hump his freaking leg. He can't do that. Tim deserves better than the half-breed village idiot of the House of El. Way better.

So he's got to get this under control, under wraps. Think of something disgusting. Something not Krypto...Oh, Krypto. His _dog_. Okay, that did it. Phew. He's all down boy and cool now.

He takes a breath, wipes the sweat from his palms on his jeans, and steps inside Tim's room. To hang with his buds. Just hang.

But he can't help the satisfied smirk on his face when he flops down on Tim's bed with a little "Ha!"

Tim's sitting in the chair by his desk. Bart's just sitting on the floor. And before Bart can say, "Dude, what took you so long?" Kon just busts out. In a good way.

"Okay, share with the rest of the class," Bart says. "You didn't think it was so funny before--"

Kon does the fake buff and polish with his nails, scrapes them on his shirt. "Score one for the S-boys," he says. And then whistles innocently.

Bart just looks annoyed. "Cryptic much?"

Kon smiles, rolls to his side and leans up on his elbow. "For your information, Batman _does_ take it up the ass. Clark's so the man." He doesn't bother to add that, from what little his surge of hormones out there could gather of the sex shit conversation, he'd observed just a bit of round two or maybe even three and that Bruce and Clark were mixing it up a little, all equitable. Little Flash here doesn't need to know that.

Bart's eyes just get big. "You're shitting me. No freaking way!"

"The eyes don't lie," is all Kon says. "Tab A, Slot B." He takes his elbow hand, forms a ring with his fingers, puts one finger from the other through that ring and out again. "Simple physics. And fucking. As in Clark's giving it _good_." He thrusts his hips a little for emphasis. "Yeah, that's right. _Take_ it!"

So he's on his knees now, legs spread, hands behind his head and elbows out, doing the porn moves and getting into it, making those boom-chicka-wow-wow sounds. He's getting into it so he takes off his shirt, rubs his chest a little, throws his head back, getting down with the gyration.

But no one's laughing. No one's telling him to get over himself and to put his stupid shirt back on. No one's saying ew. The room's just scary quiet.

He opens his eyes and Tim and Bart are both just staring at him. Like _staring_. And not in a shock-horror kind of way. But in a why don't you keep going kind of way. Like he's forcing them to do that or something, like he's some enormous cocktease and maybe they resent it a little. But if he unzips right now, they're not going to stop him, just blame him later.

Oh. Maybe he owes Peej a big old apology. Because this is something short of nice. This isn't the love-fest that's going on across the hall. This is sex and he's just a slab of Kryptomeat on a stick.

So he slumps a little, twists his shirt in his hands so it's all messed up, and says, "Oh," out loud.

Both Bart and Tim look away, look anywhere but at him. And things just get that much more complicated. He _knows_ that he should say something, anything, something stupid. He's good at that. These are his buds, his pals, and is _this_ why they hang with him? Really?

He sits on the edge of the bed. He doesn't put his shirt back on. Why bother?

The rooms still scary quiet and Kon really wants to be anywhere but here right now, awkward, so he opens up his ears to maybe hear if Clark and Bruce are still going at it.

But he doesn't hear the sex noises anymore. They're done. What he hears is Clark crying. Not in a girly sobby kind of way, all loud, but quiet. Like a guy's allowed to do sometimes. And Bruce, he's not pulling the cold shoulder, telling him to buck up and be a man. No, he's all whispery with the comfort. He's not so good at it either, but Kon can tell that he's _trying_ , even if his comfort gears are all rusty. He's dancing around the big words, like he can't physically say them, but what he does say basically says the same freaking thing. All negative space to emphasize the positive.

So his way off the mark comments earlier, about the beautiful man-love, aren't so off the mark after all. Because Bruce's whispers are how It's All About Clark, how he'd rather chew his left arm off than see him in this kind of pain. He doesn't use the L-word, but it's there, in every whisper. And it's not the L-word as in Lois, which is a big, huge freaking issue and that's what they're talking about right now, but the other L-word. Same number of letters, just ends in an 'e' and has a 'v' in it.

Bruce might screw around as the ooh I'm so mysterious with my little smile Tim hinted at earlier, but Clark's the One. Man, he's the _freaking_ One. This is just a bucketload of pain that's crawling in his buttinsky ears right now. Forget the bucket, call it a _boat_. Just a whole world of hurt. On all sides. Because this isn't fair to Lois. Like at all. Clark's _married_. And maybe he had some kind of one-time pass, non-renewable. Kon just can't see Clark doing anything like this without checking in at home first. But this is it. This is all they get.

Which, when he thinks about it, is maybe how Bruce rolls. Be all I can't have this and I'll just love you from afar like a Knight of the Round Table deal and never say a fucking thing. Pain is my life and all that goth crap. Which, yeah, Gotham. Makes sense. But it's not one-sided. Mr. Sunshiny Metropolis is in there with the Me Too.

And dude, they've done the deed now. Several deeds. Like _all_ of them. Because they had to cram the whole menu into these few hours. That restaurant's going to get all boarded up. Now. Time's up. Clark will go home and Bruce will go down and sit in the Cave and go out and kick some serious ass. Life sucks and Kon kind of feels sorry for anybody that Batman catches doing anything close to iffy tonight. Teeth meet boot. Boot meet teeth. And Tim'll be there with the dental plan pamphlets. Or not. Whatever Bruce says goes. At least out there.

So what happens when they're like in space and shit, the world's ending, and everyone's going down in flames? These two are just going to be with the handshake? Not. They're going to be all Last Kiss or you know, fuck, if they have time. And someone will come through at the last minute, turn off that bomb at 0:02 left to go, turn back Armageddon, and Clark will be just a cheating cheater who cheats. And maybe Bruce will lay into him for that, blame him for being weak, be all Superman can't make mistakes and blah blah blah. Just a complete dick. Clark will be all with the sorry and Bruce will be Bat-goo and they'll do it _again_. This time without the explosions and the nice knowing you.

Is Clark going to get a divorce? That's a cage match waiting to happen. Lois and Bruce. Let's get ready to rummmble. And Kon's not going to put anything more than even money as to who kicks whose ass to the mat. Verbally, Lois can rip anyone a new one. Even Bruce.

And what is it that everyone's like in _love_ with Clark? When Luthor was all cackly with the 'Kon, I am your father', only without the Vader breathing, he said some weird stuff, all confusing. Which, hey, the point. Go evil and kill all your friends. But not Superman. Because Superman was _his_. And okay, kind of skeevy, but it didn't really click until Clark was at the farm, getting the old pictures out, trying to help him deal. Trying to be fatherly or big brotherly or half-clony or whatever the fuck they are to each other. And then he got it. Not that he thinks even Clark got it, but Kon sure as shit did.

Luthor went evil because Clark didn't put out. Because the crap that Luthor was saying? Well, not _saying_ exactly, because he says stuff without saying it, all between the lines. He kind of said that once Superman left _his_ evil ways, then they could be all one happy family. Like he _knows_ that that's _Clark_ and family means fucking privileges. Like here Kon, have the remote, Clark and I will just be in the back bedroom over here _fucking_. Like he wishes Kon really was an ass-baby made the old-fashioned way. Not like there's anything like an ass-baby. He didn't sleep _all_ the way through bio like Bart thinks. But still.

So Clark doesn't put out and people go evil and blow shit up just to get his attention. Why didn't you love me, Clark? They make clones so they can have little Kent-Luthors blowing shit up too. With their freaking _eyes_. Jesus.

Why does he exist again?

Time to pull out of his head, not the best place to be, and deal with the scary quiet room. It's not like he's even listening to the Lifetime Television moment across the hall anymore anyway. And yeah, he knows what that is, okay? The Kents only get basic cable. So it's time to deal with two _friends_ that not one minute ago were all ready to stuff dollar bills in his low-slungs. Just without the not moving or saying anything. Because hey, he's got the Clark bod and none of the humility to go with it. He knows this.

Or maybe he's just an asshole and they didn't want the TMI play-by-play of the Clark – Bruce action. That's got to be it.

Oh God, his _life_.

Because contrary to popular opinion, the clue-by-four only has to whack him upside the head five or ten times before it sticks. They're crushing on him and he's not quite sure what to do about that. He's straight. Pretty much. Shit, he doesn't _know_. He's a tit man, always will be. He'll have to be pretty freaking _old_ for a nice pair not to snag his attention. That's common knowledge. He's pretty vocal about it. But it's not like something on the flatter manly side gags him with the gross either. And nobody knows about _that_. Nobody.

The boner he popped in the hallway is evidence that he's not _completely_ against the idea.

And he's got a pretty good thing going with Cassie, if it plays out. He can easily see himself five, ten years down the road settling down and popping out a couple of SuperWonder kids with her. Be perfectly happy about it. Be all nuclear family heterosexual agenda. Just, you know, with superpowers. Not be curious, in that way, at all. Come hang out with his bud in Gotham on the occasional day off.

But then history might repeat itself if he does that. Because Tim here might think he's all sly with his orientation, but nobody's jaw's going to hit the floor with the no way if he comes out. Trust him on this. So Kon'll be over here, right? Yeah here, because Bruce will be—not dead, that would kill Tim and Clark—retired or something, so it'll just be Tim and him. And then they'll end up messing around and Kon will be the cheating cheater that cheats. He might be a little on the straight side and Tim on the gay, but it'll happen.

It'll happen because what they have, it's _deep_. They're _connected_. The whole 'it's different when two people love each other' thing just might apply here. Not that he's saying that all buds should get down with each other, but maybe he should stop like _lying_ to himself about how this sex-thing isn't there. Because maybe the two dudes across the hall are like a big old fat example of that. Like there's things to be _learned_ , lessons to be _had_.

Plus there's the whole benefit of getting off. Like right freaking now. Just get over the whole fear factor that Tim just wants to _use_ his sex-ass self until something better, someone smarter, comes along. Be egotistical for real and not all overcompensating because he's decanted, not a real person, all Pinocchio. Not get all agreeing inside when assholes who like to dress up as _bats_ just to make people piss all over themselves call him The Clone to his face. To his _face_. Just all kinds of disrespect. Just get with the frown and the shutting of doors when he brings his ass over to hang. Hang with Tim who doesn't treat him that way at _all_. Never has. Doesn't look at him like he's some half-assed Clark from some off-brand copier.

Which, now that he knows Bruce is all with the tragic love story, makes a world of sense.

But the thing is that they're _not_ Clark and Bruce. Because, unless he missed something, there's no Flash equivalent joining in the nasty party with the heap of sad across the way. Bart's a part of this too. And more than he just happens to be in the room with them now way. For all his speedy ways, he _grounds_ them. Just has this smile that lights up the whole room so you can't _help_ but smile too. Vibrant may be all cliché, but it's true. So freaking true. Pulls Tim away from the Winter of My Despondency thing he spirals into sometimes, pulls Kon away from the wack and into reality.

And now that Bart's all aged up and hormonal, he's got a bit of the sex-ass going for him, the little bounce and swagger. The hint of _fun_.

Besides, Kon's always said that he's dude enough for two. And he so is. He can get with the multi-tasking. Wrap his head around the two guys instead of two girls thing. Wrap his head and some other things.

Time to party down. As soon as he takes care of the scary quiet _awkward_. Let them know that, yeah, he's _available_ and not skeeved out with the boy-attention.

As soon as he can get them to _look_ at him.

Because Tim's moved away from his desk, all broody with the crossed arms and back against the door. Bart's just sort of slumped on the floor, all un-Flashlike with the not moving.

"Hey," he says. Lame, but it's a start. Or it would be if anybody like _responded_.

Tim's still with the not looking and what's that all about? He's in shutdown and regroup mode, gears all turning like his world's readjusting and...oh no, serious? Because maybe he's not only reacting to the Kon bod of hot and getting caught looking, but the newsflash that prompted the porn moves. Tim was all cool with the _idea_ of the Bruce and Clark love. But he's not so cool with the _practice_.

So okay, Kon's heard some of the Batman and Robin jokes. And anyone that makes the mistake of thinking Kon wants to hear it ends up with the TK shove. So not funny. Not that he thinks any of that is true, he'd be the first in line with the Bruce beatdown—and willingly get his ass bat-kicked just to get a punch in—if that were the case. But that doesn't mean that Tim here doesn't have the crush going either. Not that Kon's good with the sharing in that respect, but he can understand it. And maybe it's Clark too. After all, Kon's model B. 

But he's not going to get all insecure and jealous. He's going to let Tim know he's there. Two of _them_ , right? And Bart. He can count to three so he's pretty sure Tim can too.

So he stands, all bare-chested, and goes over.

"Hey," he says again, leaning in a bit, bracing one arm against the door by Tim's head. If he's going to come on, he's going to come on strong. "I'm cool with it." And he smiles to show that he is.

Tim just looks at him, doesn't say anything. Great, he wants him to _spell_ it out. A, B, C and freaking D. And maybe since he's been acting like he'd never hop on the clue bus, that's only fair.

"I'm cool with them," Kon says, and he leans in a little more, whispery and breathy, to get his point across. "But I'm way more cool with us."

There. Can't get any more obvious than _that_ , right?

Wrong.

Because Tim looks at him like he's _mad_ now, just in that subtle way of his. "Don't do me any favors," he says. All cold and cool. Except for that small hitch of breath at the end that tells him that maybe, just maybe, Kon should keep on talking.

"No, you'd be doing me one," he says. "Serious." And he leans just a little further in. "Do you know any Kryptonian?" He's just inches away now. Inches. Tim's not exactly meeting him halfway, but he's not stopping him either.

"No, I don't," he says. In Kryptonian. And his accent's _flawless_ , better than Bruce's.

"Really?" Kon says, also in Kryptonian, low, because they're that close now. "So if I say, oh, the words brother/warrior/lover along with fuck, they'd mean absolutely nothing to you."

Tim's eyes go round and his mouth makes this pretty, yes, pretty, he can say that, 'oh' shape, very good for kissing when they get there in a few seconds, before he says, "No, not a thing." And he says that in Kryptonian too.

Oooh, someone's been sneaking into the old man's How To Get A Kryptonian All Bendy If I'd Ever Actually Get Over Myself And Use It database.

"Didn't think so," he says. In English.

So of course, this is when Bart loses it because Kon hasn't exactly gone with the multi-tasking. He's got to work on that.

"I am so out of here," he says. "Jesus. Think I'm just going to sit here and _watch_ you two get all World's Finest Jr.?" But he's not insta-gone so he's not done talking. "Told you, Tim. All you had to do was say the word. And _you_ ," he says to Kon, "can never talk about someone gaying up the room again. Ever." 

And he stands in a huff, picks up his pack like he's going to speed out of there. End up in South America before he cools down.

Kon puts up the TK wall before he can do that. "I can count to three," he says. "Why can't you?"

And there must be an echo in the room or something because Bart just looks at him, all hurt. "Don't do me any favors," he says.

How? How can these two possibly be on the same page for this? Like Kon's some dickwad who takes _advantage_? All these _feelings_ flying around the room, sad and hurtful, when they should be getting down to the good sex _feelings_. What? Like it was better before when he was Mr. Straight and Clueless? Kon with the Gay Clue is evil or something? Come on.

So he just looks from one to the other and he gets it. It wasn't better before, just safer. Safer to crush on someone who they thought wouldn't, you know, crush _back_. And crush, that's a stupid word. Doesn't mean anything. Just a kid thing like cartoons and Hot Wheels. Okay, maybe not the Hot Wheels. All shallow and not real at all. They've been through too much for that, been on the line.

And if Bruce can't say the L-word, he can. Even if only to himself. Love. None of this like or crush or stupid shit. Love. With lots of _sex_.

Just what does he do about that? He's got all these _feelings_ too and he's jack at the expressing. Here he is with all these _powers_ and he can't use a single one of them to...

Wait. That's Clark's secret. Why all these people are tripping all over themselves to get to him. It's not the 'Hey, I'm Superman' but the _vulnerability_. That's what makes hard-asses like Bruce get all fluttery. Because no matter how scary powerful Clark can be, he's just so _open_. And with Clark, it's not a weak-ass thing at all.

So he lets all these things, these _feelings_ , surface. You know, the fear, the fuck—desire, just lets it all open up until he gets the Ugly Face, all crumply. Not with the crying, because he's still a dude here and not at Clark's level with the okay with that, but close. And the words come out all jumbled.

"You think...I mean...Fuck..."

And bam, they're on him. Just like that. He's got both arms out and one in each. They fall back to the floor, but he's got the TK cushion going, so it's a soft landing. They're just all mouths and hands and, hey, there's a grin and a giggle, there's his Bart. And that sigh, like the world can't get anything more out of him than that, there's his Tim. 

So it's a little slobbery and awkward, but they'll get there. They've got time to work out the bumpy noses and whose tongue goes where and who likes what. 

He lets his head fall back as Tim and Bart meet in the middle. And as much as he can act like it's all about him, this can't work that way, not with the three of them. Plus it can be hot just to watch a little. Okay, just a little, so he leans up and gets back into it.

Score another one for the S-boys. Is he good or is he good?

Yeah, he's good.


End file.
